Flame
by Melika Elena
Summary: Sequel to Solace. "Fire burns," he said. "I'll burn you. I'll corrupt you." They're so close to becoming more. Can she stop him from pulling away? WarrenLayla


**Warning: **If you haven't read "Solace", you should. I suppose that you would comprehend the plot, but if you read "Solace", then you'd fully understand this. Thank you and happy reading!

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**Burn**

_Sequel to "Solace"_

They never talked about it.

It was something just below the surface, an issue that could be opened at any time… but wasn't. And that bothered her. It bothered her immensely.

So they had flirted. So they had held hands. So he gave her a soft kiss good night at her door. So what? She had felt something, that was what. Whenever she thought about that night, butterflies filled her stomach and her face was the color of a rose. And it made her wonder.

Did he feel the same way? Did he feel as if it was a mistake, or even worse, a one time thing? Was he unsure of her feelings? What if he thought she still loved Will?

Truth be told, she _did _love Will. She would always love Will. Just not the way she used to. Not anymore. Will had so many problems, and he refused to let her help. While he said he didn't want to burden her, Layla felt that subconsciously, he didn't trust her enough. And that hurt.

A cluster of fireflies caught Layla's eye and she grinned, thinking of _him _again. Oh, there were sparks between them. Heat. Fire.

But it wasn't lust. Not just, anyway. He was highly good looking, especially since he cut his long locks and one could actually see his chiseled face. But it was more than that. _He _was more than that.

Warren Peace was definitely a complex character, that was for sure. Although with parents like this, Layla couldn't really blame him. He turned out well under the circumstances, actually. After all, one can't be perfect with a villain for a father and a superhero for a mother. Talk about a love-hate relationship.

Their's wasn't like that though. They had a special bond. She was his first friend and in return he helped her get together with Will.

Frowning, Layla had a revelation. What if Warren thought he was betraying Will by dating her? Dragging her fingers through her hair, Layla knew what she had to do. She owed it to herself and to Warren and dammit, she needed to know how he felt.

Grabbing her coat, the wide-eyed girl threw open her window and climbed down the tree by her window. It was time to stop thinking and start doing.

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He should have been expecting this. It was inevitable, really. Layla Plantae was a smart girl. It should have been no surprise that she got the hints and probably after hours of analyzing those said hints, decided to confront him as to what exactly it all meant.

Of course, Warren was desperately hoping that she would just forget about it all and the whole incident would just fade away. He hadn't meant to flirt with her, hold hands with her, kiss her… that girl was just so damn tempting.

It wasn't that he didn't like Layla. On the contrary, he was rather infatuated with her. There was just something about the way her eyes sparkled, the pitch of her laugh, the compassion in her smile. She was so naturally beautiful in every way and he honestly couldn't picture his life without her.

Scowling, Warren watched her figure approach his house from his window. When did he get so damn sappy anyway?

Oh, right. The moment she came into his life at that Chinese restaurant, waiting for Will. Her sappiness must have rubbed off on him. Her sappiness and her kindness and her smiles and her humor…

The doorbell rang.

Reluctantly, he opened the door, wondering whether he should be grateful or not that his mother wasn't home. "Hey," he told her, trying to act as if things were normal. Normal. Yeah right.

The object of his affections gave him a piercing look. "I assume you know why I'm here," she told him in that no-nonsense tone of hers.

With a weary little smile, he simply let her in. "I assume that you know that I know what we all know," he said, his snarky humor emerging in place of nervousness.

Her glare told him said humor was not appreciated. "We need to talk and I'm not taking no for an answer."

"I figured," he twisted his lips into something between a grimace and a grin. His heart raced but his mind was eerily calm. Warren held out his hand. "Come with me," he said.

Layla may have been mad at him, upset even. But she trusted him with her life. She put her hand in his. "Okay," she said simply.

He led her to the park where their last infamous meeting was. Layla didn't know whether to call it romantic or foreboding.

They stopped at a bench next to a red rose bush and for a moment, the two just stood, silently, staring at the rose bush.

Unable to take the silence, she began, "Warren—"

He cut her off, however, his voice an odd combination of light and serious. "Do you see this bush? It's perfectly fine on its own. All it needs is light and water and soil to grow." Layla focused in on his voice, his facial expression, his eyes. Where was he going with this? This wasn't the Warren she knew and lo—

"The law of inertia states that an object in motion will have continue that same motion until an outside force disturbs it," he continued, seemingly off topic. "That can apply to this rose bush. One day it could be going about its business, growing and blossoming and blooming until an outside variable makes itself known. What if that variable was fire? Destroying something innocent and pure, killing the mockingbird, so to speak. Fire burns, Layla." Warren turned his gaze to her and she couldn't breathe. All of the sudden she realized that he wasn't trying to say he didn't like her, or that it was because of Will. He wasn't trying to say that at all.

He cleared his throat suddenly, but his voice was still deep and mature. "Fire burns," he repeated. "I burn. I'll burn you. I'll corrupt you. I'll…" he trailed off and they fell into silence again. Layla didn't know what to say, but her mind was racing rapidly as was her heart. How could she convince him?

"My father killed my mother," he said abruptly, and Layla gasped. When had this happened? She had just seen his mother a few nights before, after going bowling with Warren… Seeing her expression, Warren gave a small, weary smile that was supposed to be reassuring. "Not literally, of course. But he did kill her. A good part of her, a part that may not ever be resurrected. I can never be sure if he really loved her or not. I don't think she can be either. He kept taking and taking from her, never giving anything back. He kept burning her, scorching her time after time but she never left, never bothered to put the fire out." Warren turned his gaze to her, finally, and within his dark eyes Layla saw the definition of heartbreak. "I'm a result of what happens when two worlds that should never be together collide. I don't know how much good I have in me, or bad, and that scares me. If we start something, and if I realize I'm like him, if I'm dark…" Warren trailed off. "I don't want you to be my mother. I don't want to be him. But it could happen. That's why _we _can't—" He never finished his thought.

"A plant needs light, and water, and soil," Layla interrupted, her voice calm and collected, as if she was unaffected by his words. "All three elements are vitally important to the plant's survival, and without one element, the plant dies, no matter what."

Glancing towards the west, her eyes followed the setting sun. "Take the sun, for example," she continued. "If there were no sun, there would be no life, no animals, no humans, no plants. Do you know what the sun is, Warren?" She didn't wait for an answer. "The sun is a star. The largest in the solar system. Do you know what stars are made of? They're full of gases, full of Hydrogen and Helium constantly fusing together. Essentially, the sun is fire, Warren. Its light and warmth keep things alive." She turned to face him again, but her eyes were on the rose bush. "Okay, so the sun _can_ burn. It can blind. It is extremely dangerous. But… without the sun, without the fire, this rose bush would not live." She looked at him, finally. "Do you understand me, Warren?" Layla asked him quietly. "Do you understand now?"

Warren nodded, then shook his head. It made sense, but what if… "You are not your father, Warren," Layla said firmly, seemingly reading his mind. "Just by the fact that you were trying to protect me from yourself, just by the fact that you care about your mother _so much, _just by the fact that you don't want to be him… that says so much. Just by saying that, but believing it, you are not your father. You are so much more than he will ever be. You are Warren Peace," she looked down briefly, flushing lightly when her eyes once again locked with his. "You are Warren Peace. You are the man I know, the man I admire, and the man… the man I want to be with."

Hearing her saying those words, so sincerely and purely, seemed like handprints in cement. Something that, once you did, was forever there, set in stone. And just the thought of spending forever with her made him smile. And it made her grin as well.

There was no need for words now. Taking her hand in his, Warren threaded his fingers through hers, forging a connection and holding on.

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**Notes: **This sequel has been on my mind for some time, really, ever since I posted "Solace". However, with my fairy tale story "Of All the Girls in the World" and my story, "Second Place" I'm sorry to say that this was put on the back burner. Not anymore, however!

I'm considering writing a third in this series, making it a trilogy of sorts, but if I do, it won't be for a while, sorry.

Anyway, your opinions/thoughts/whatever are always welcome, so if you could review, I would very much appreciate it.

Thanks!

_Written: 7 _April 2006.


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